The Sky Above
by analine
Summary: As it turns out, Jack's affinity for roofs seems to be contagious. Jack/Ianto. Fluff.


**Title:** The Sky Above  
><strong>PairingCharacters:** Jack/Ianto  
><strong>WarningsSpoilers:** none  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R, just to be safe  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> ~1,100  
><strong>Beta:<strong> Sariagray  
><strong>Summary:<strong> As it turns out, Jack's affinity for roofs seems to be contagious.

**Notes:** What can I say, after this week, I needed fluff. ;)

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><p><strong>The Sky Above<strong>

"I think it's contagious," Ianto says, his eyes focused on the glow of the city surrounding him on all sides. He doesn't turn around, but raises his voice slightly, so that it carries better over the wind whipping around the top of the building. "This whole roof thing."

He closes his eyes, and smiles when he feels Jack's wide palms on his back, guiding him away from the building's edge. The city is stretched out, glittering and clean and enormous in front of them. Jack's fingers clench against his overcoat as he tugs Ianto back against his chest. The thrill of being up here, untouchable, open skies all around them, makes him feel both powerful, and completely insignificant, almost simultaneously.

Ianto chuckles a little. "It does wonders for your ego, doesn't it. Being up here."

"Mmm, I wouldn't know."

"Right," Ianto supplies drily.

Jack ignores him, but slides his hands up and down Ianto's arms, an idle gesture, really, and Ianto's surprised to find himself warming under the attention.

"I guess it does feel a bit like a king surveying his kingdom..."

"You said it, not me," Ianto mumbles, and then, impulsively, he places his hands over Jack's and pulls them close to his chest for a moment.

He feels Jack's breath huff out in surprise against his cheek. He lets go a moment later, not quite embarrassed, but grateful for the dark, cloudy night sky all the same.

"What was that for?" Jack asks, and Ianto can't help but lean into his touch, just a little, when Jack wraps an arm around his waist. Even under so many layers, the gesture makes his skin tingle a little.

"Nothing, just cold," Ianto offers, but Jack is smiling at him like he knows everything, goofy and adorable, and then his smile fades to something softer, something that makes Ianto's heart shudder erratically in his chest.

_Really_, Ianto thinks, _it would really be better if they just got back to work_.

It was cold up here, and windy, and while Jack might be able to fend off a cold, no problem, Ianto would most certainly be laid up for a week. If they stayed up here in the wind and cold long enough for him to do all the things he wanted to do to Jack right now, that is. And they just didn't have that kind of time. Did they?

The look of surprise on Jack's face when Ianto turns and crushes their lips together with what could only be described as a growl of frustration (though Ianto is sure he'd be able to come up something a little more dignified, given just a bit more time) is priceless. Jack returns the kiss eagerly. He allows himself to be walked backwards until he's pressed against the grimy metal door that Ianto had burst up through what couldn't have been more than an hour ago.

Images of Jack's coat, streaked with soot and dirt quickly fade to the back of Ianto's mind as Jack tilts his head to allow the kiss to deepen. He can't see anything now, not the bright city lights spread out below them, sparkling out over the bay, or the tops of the other buildings, jutting up around them. It's just Jack, and desire washing over them like a fine mist until it bears down on them completely and there's nothing else to do except to scrabble clumsily with buckles and buttons and zippers; nothing except the expanse of Jack's mouth, and the rasping slide of Jack's tongue against his neck, and the taste of sweat, beading on Jack's upper lip, burning and salty on Ianto's lips as his heart hammers out a steady pulse...

"I used to hate roofs," Ianto says softly, trying to measure his breathing with Jack's, and succeeding for a moment, only to lose his rhythm all over again when Jack's hips jut up unexpectedly, and the friction makes them both gasp.

"You left," Ianto starts again. "And I'd come up here and all I could think about was you, up there," he says, and there's no bitterness, not anymore, just words. "And all the things I was going to say to you when you got back. And then you did, and I realized it was all rubbish anyway. I didn't need to say anything."

"Could have fooled me," Jack says, and Ianto laughs, and then he's panting against Jack's shoulder because he's close, now, has been for a while, but has been trying to draw the moment out, trying to make it stretch as long and as far as possible.

"So what do you think about when you come up here now?" Jack asks, frustratingly calm and measured, while Ianto's knees threaten to weaken into jello as Jack's focused hands start to really work their magic.

He fights with Jack for a moment, for control, and then for purchase on the metal flooring under his feet. He bites his lip and swallows most of the sharp cry that threatens to escape from his throat a moment later. Jack follows, unabashedly shouting Ianto's name to the skies above. If Ianto had any brain cells left to his name, he's sure he would be deeply, deeply mortified right now.

All the same, when he sags against Jack's body, and feels Jack sag back against the door, it's the best he's felt all day, all week. The most _alive_.

"Come on," Jack says a moment later, once he's cleaned them up impeccably (one of the many benefits of having such deep pockets). "What do you think about now?" he asks again, insistent as ever. "Do you come up here when you're angry?"

"Do I look angry?" Ianto says, and pushes himself away from Jack. He nudges Jack's arse over with his hips, until there's just enough space for him to squeeze next to him. They both lean back against the door, and Ianto doesn't think at all about the dry cleaning bill.

"Nothing ever changes, Jack," Ianto says quietly, and feels Jack's hand cover his own. His fingers are cold, and Ianto squeezes them tight.

"I still think about you, up there," he says, glancing skyward. "I think about the future. Where you'll go next. What it will look like."

Jack's hand clenches in his.

"Maybe it'll look exactly like this," Jack offers, and Ianto's not sure what exactly he means. Jack's eyes are looking at him, and through him at the same time, into the space high above them.

"Yeah," Ianto says, and takes a step away from the door, so that he can appreciate in the full effect of their height again, the city expanding out in front of him as he approaches the edge, and looks up at the sky above.

"Maybe."

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><p><strong>end<strong>


End file.
